The witty Westerne Lasse:
OR,
You Maids, that with your friends whole nights have spent,
Beware back-fallings, for feare of the event.
To a new tune, called the Begger Boy.
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SWeet Lucina lend me thy aid,
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thou art my helper and no other,
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Pitty the state of a Teeming Maid,
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that never was Wife, yet must be a Mother:
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By my presage it should be a Boy,
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that thus lyes tumbling in my belly,
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Yeeld me some ease to cure my annoy,
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and list to the griefe I now shall tell ye.
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I was beloved every where,
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and much admired for my beauty,
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Young men thought they happy were,
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who best to me could shew their duty:
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But now alack, paind in my back,
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and cruell gripings in my belly,
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Doe force me to cry, O sick am I,
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I feare I shall die, alack, and welly.
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Instead of mirth now may I weepe,
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and sadly for to sit lamenting,
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Since he I loved, no faith doth keepe,
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nor seekes no meanes for my contenting:
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But all regardlesse of my mone,
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or that lies tumbling in my belly,
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He into Sweathland now is gone,
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and left me to cry, alack, and welly.
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It doth the Proverbe verifie,
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folly it were to complaine me,
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Those that desired my company,
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scornfully they now they disdaine me:
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Wanting his sight, was my delight,
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and cruell gripings in my belly,
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Doe force me to cry, O sick am I,
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I feare I shall die, alack, and welly.
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Thus am I to the World a scorne,
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my dearest friends will not come nigh me:
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Shall I then for his absence mourne,
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that for his dearest doth deny me?
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No, no, no, I will not doe so,
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with patience I my griefe will smother,
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And as he hath coozened me,
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so will I by cunning gull another.
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Incontinent to Troynovant,
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for my content Ile thither hie me,
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Where privately, from company,
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obscurely Ile lye, where none shall descry me:
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And when I am eased of my paine,
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and cruell gripings in my belly,
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I for a Maid will passe againe,
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and need not to cry, alack, and welly.
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The second part, To the same tune.
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SOme Trades-man there I will deceive,
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by my modesty and carriage,
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And I will so my selfe behave,
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as by some trick to get a Marriage:
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And when I am married, I will so carry it,
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as none shall know it by my belly,
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That ever I have formerly
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had cause to cry, alack, and welly.
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And if he be a Husband kind,
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Ile true and constant be unto him:
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Obedient still he shall me find,
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with good respect Ile duty owe him:
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But if he crabbed be, and crosse,
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and basely beat me, back and belly,
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As Vulcans Knight, Ile fit him right,
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and scorne to cry, alack, and welly.
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A secret friend Ile keepe in store,
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for my content and delectation,
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And now and then in the Taverne rore,
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with joviall Gallants, men of fashion:
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Sacke, or Claret, I will call for it,
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Ile scorne to want, or pinch my belly,
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But merry will be in company,
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no more I will cry, alack, and welly.
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And if I cannot to my mind
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a Husband get, that will maintaine me,
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Ile shew my selfe to each man kind,
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in hope, that it some love will gaine me:
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But yet so warie I will be,
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Ile shun from ought may wrong my belly,
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Through misery, to cause me cry,
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as formerly, alack, and welly.
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Had he I lovd, but constant provd,
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and not have beene to me deceitfull,
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No subtill Sinon should have movd
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me to these odious courses hatefull:
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But since that he proves false to me,
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not pittying that is in my belly,
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No more I will grieve, but merry will be,
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and cry no more, alack, and welly.
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With resolution firmely bent,
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Ile cast off care and melancholly,
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Sorrow and griefe, and discontent:
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to fret, and vexe, it is but a folly,
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Or seeke by woe to overthrow,
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or wrong the first fruits of my belly:
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No, no, no, no, Ile not doe so,
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no more will I cry, alack, and welly.
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